Manifestations
by maxwell02
Summary: Syelle: At first, he thought she was another figment of his imagination. Sometimes, the powers that he had collected over the years would chose to show themselves in strange and unexpected ways.


_AN: I know I'm supposed to be working on M&M Gray and Always but this story just popped into my head and I couldn't let it go. Hope this tides you over until I can get some updates up!_

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**Manifestations**

He had been alone for a long, long time when he saw her again.

At first, he thought she was another figment of his imagination. Sometimes, the powers that he had collected over the years would chose to show themselves in strange and unexpected ways. For the most part, he exercised complete control over them but there were so many it was sometimes hard to keep track. Sometimes, a seed or a twig would spring to life at his passing. Once, a scalding hot sip of coffee had turned to ice in his mouth. It was little things really. But, there was one power that would flare up annoyingly at times even when he didn't wish it to.

The power of illusion was one that he had picked up long ago from a boy on the southern tip of Florida. It was probably the one power that he actually regretted taking. It could be useful at times but he never anticipated when he took it that it could or would manifest itself, unbidden, in such a devastating fashion. The first time it did, it was one week after he had first acquired it. While staring vaguely out of the window of a rented bungalow on Miami Beach, watching happy families and young children play in the bright afternoon sun, gloomy thoughts of _her_ had entered his mind unbidden. And for a moment, he had wished that it _was _her out there enjoying the afternoon sun with their child. As soon as he thought it, the image of a blonde woman and a fair haired child glinted in the corner of his eye. Sitting bolt upright, he had stared at the woman and child in frozen disbelief. Her back was turned to him and he silently urged her to turn around so he could get a clear look at her visage. She did.

At the first glimpse of her face, he was running out the door and throwing himself down the short steps that lead to the boardwalk. Running on bare feet and panting in tight, shallow breaths, he cautiously slowed as he approached them as they played on the beach. It was impossible and yet, there she was…and there was a breathtakingly beautiful boy with her. His heart, which had lay dead and still for so many years, gave a painful lurch and he raised his hand to press against his chest.

He stood before them quietly for a long moment while he watched them build a castle in the sand, so close that his shadow fell upon them and blotted out the sun. Neither of them seemed bothered by his presence. In fact, it was as if they didn't even realize he was there at all. It was maddening and confusing to him – why wouldn't she look at him?

How was it even possible that they were there?

"Elle?" he whispered tentatively.

She looked up, squinting slightly, and smiled at him. The devastation of that simple smile was swift and severe. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes and the ache in his chest became acute. The strength in his legs gave out and he slumped to the sand beside them, joy mixing painfully with regret in his heart robbing him of his self control.

Through it all, she kept the same gentle smile on her face.

Reaching out unthinkingly to touch her cheek, he choked on a scream when his hand passed through her without resistance. In a blink, the illusion was shattered and they were gone. He was sitting alone on the beach as people milled around in noisy abundance, laughing and mingling without ever realizing that a virtual demigod sat brokenhearted in their midst.

That was the first time.

After that, over the next several months, whenever he was feeling particularly lonely, her image would rise up to haunt him. Sometimes she would be doing normal, innocuous things. He would see her watching television or sipping coffee in the morning with a funny pages spread out before her. Sometimes, when he was feeling especially self-loathing, she would be walking around in a long gray shirt that was too large for her petite body and a bloody gash etched across her forehead. Other times, late at night when he was tired and having trouble sleeping, he would imagine that she was in bed with him, tucked up around the beautiful child with dark brown eyes and fair hair, quietly reading bedtime stories. Those times, he wished with all his heart that he could reach out and pull them close, that he could be a part of their peaceful world. Of course, he never did.

After awhile, he found that he could almost believe that she was real. Visually, she was perfect down to the tiniest details. When he wanted her to, she could talk to him. On his long, solitary walks through parks and forests, she would walk beside him. She had taken on a life of her own, almost. The illusion was so real that other people were completely fooled. It was both exhilarating and agonizing at the same time. He could see her, he could hear her, but he could never again _feel_ her. And oh, how he craved her touch. That was often how the illusion would end, with him reaching for her and her simply…not being there. Sometimes after such an incident, he would vow to himself never to call up her image again.

But in the end, it was all he had left.

Inevitably, about a year after his mind first started projecting her likeness, came the day that he realized he needed to wipe her specter from his existence forever or become mad. In fact, he wasn't sure that he wasn't already more than a little crazy by then.

He had decided to move back to Queens. By this time in his life, the need for more powers had dwindled. He hadn't taken a new power since the boy in Florida and even those that he had acquired before then had been few and far in between. He had enough money that he never needed to work again but he wanted to do something he still enjoyed. He opened a new watch repair shop. By then, the old Gray and Sons had long since disappeared and been replaced many times over by shops of all kinds. He didn't mind. The new shop was conveniently beneath their apartment.

That night, he awoke to the sounds of rain beating a steady tap against the windowpane mixing with the sounds of broken glass and shuffling coming from below. Rolling over, he saw Elle lying on her side facing him with her eyes closed. He ghosted his hand over the contours of her face and then went to take a look below.

Downstairs, stepping boldly into the shop, he turned on the lamps with a flick of his wrist. There, a scared and disheveled young man stood amidst his broken display cases, looking for valuables. At the sight of him, the intruder quickly pulled a gun from his waistband with a shaking hand. He wasn't worried - it would take more than a nameless thief to kill him. He told the young man to leave quietly and never come back and he would let him go (he was feeling in a generous mood). But unwisely, the boy instead sneered and fired three shots. None of them hit him, of course, but from behind, he heard a quiet, bubbling gasp and he whirled around to see Elle slumped over, gunshot wounds seeping copious amounts of blood onto her white, white night gown.

He went black with rage and terror, yelling her name over and over again as he went to kneel beside her, hovering with his hands but not touching, never touching. When he turned back around to the intruder, there was murder in his eyes.

Later, when he woke up again, the sun was just coming up. He looked around him and saw blood covering every surface. It was the blood of his young intruder. Lying next to his torn body was the image of Elle in her blood stained gown, her eyes dead and lifeless. He crawled back away from her until his back hit a work counter. She looked so real lying there dead. He told himself, if he just tried to touch her, he would know it was just an awful dream. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead he rose shakily and left the shop, walking for three days until he collapsed from exhaustion in a new place. In those three days, the kept asking himself why his mind would supply him with such gruesome images of her death. Was he going mad?

He never used his power of illusion again.

That didn't mean of course, that he never saw her again. Sometimes the craving was so deep, the loneliness so acute that on the edge of his vision, he would catch a flash of blond hair or hear the whisper of his name on her tongue. Those times, he would shut his eyes and will her to just_ leave him be_.

After all, what good was it to wish for things that he could never have again?

So, a long time later when he found himself on the corner of a busy street in a coastal town in northern California and saw her walk by, he frowned at her image in silent disapproval. She hadn't so blatantly manifested since that night in the shop. Dropping his ice cream cup from suddenly limp fingers, he willed her to go away.

She didn't.

He frowned in unease, his teeth scrapping the inside of his sugar flavored lip in agitation – this had certainly never happened before. He stared at her retreating form as she continued down the street, willing her image to vanish. But just as he was starting to worry that he had started to lose control of himself, he saw her accidentally bump into a man carrying coffee and a stack of newspapers and saw them both drop their things in a wet, coffee covered heap. He stood frozen with confusion as they picked their things up, both apologizing profusely. Was his mind supplying these images to him? He had certainly never created the form of anyone but Elle and the child before so it was unlikely that this nondescript man in the coffee drenched tie was a creature of his imaginings. Was he finally losing it?

Before he knew it, he found himself walking jerkily to where she was still kneeling on the sidewalk after the coffee man had taken his things and left. He reached out to touch the harmless looking wallet she had dropped, expecting to feel nothing but the ground as his hand passed through it. Instead, his palm closed around the buttery smooth finish of warm leather. His hand tightened in a spasm. It felt real. Had his power expanded to include the illusion of touch as well?

He wasn't sure how long he knelt there, staring dumbly at a rather ordinary wallet but it must have been awhile because the next thing he knew, her concerned voice was echoing in his ear.

"Hey, are you alright?" Familiar blue eyes peered at him in worry. A light hand touched his wrist.

It might as well have been a burning brand.

The heat from that touch sent a tingle of electricity straight up his arm, igniting nerves that had felt neither the sting of cold nor the pleasure of warmth in close to seventy-five years. A pained groan tore from his throat and he felt her other hand come up to grip his arm, steadying him. When had he slumped to the ground? He saw her face (oh, that face!) swim before his eyes, her large eyes etched with worry. A burning ache rose in his chest at the sight of her. If she turned out to be a figment of his imagination again...oh, God...he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Hey," she murmured and gentle fingertips brushed his hair away. He ached to push his face into her palm. Would she mind? She was still speaking to him. "What's wrong? Do you want me to get help?" At this, his eyes shot open and his hands reached up to grasp her wrists.

"NO!" he choked. Her alarmed eyes stared back at him and he tried to relax his grip. "No, please…don't go…it's not necessary." She relaxed a bit and her gaze turned curious as they stared at one another, blocking out everything and everyone around them. His eyes drank in the sight of her. She was almost exactly as he remembered her. Same face (had that mole always been there?), same scent (like oranges and citrus), the hair long and soft but with a different cut. The clothing that she wore was business like and fitted, but there was a lab coat draped over her arm. She was studying him with equal interest. When their eyes locked again, the flicker of recognition passed through her eyes and she smiled that smile he had longed for, for...all his life it seemed. The first slow curl of hope unraveled itself within him and he swallowed thickly around the lump forming in his throat. After all this time... A flurry of words formed on the tip of his tongue, clamoring to be unleashed - the many things that he had wanted to tell her but had never had the chance to or had realized too late, things that he had never even been able to utter to the pseudo-Elle. It was all there, on the tip of his tongue, but as he stared into her eyes, the words stuck in his throat.

"Elle..." Why was it so difficult to speak? She gave him a puzzled look.

"Do I know you?" she asked hesitantly. "You seem...familiar."

"You don't...remember me?"

She looked away for a moment and then brought her focus back on him. "No...should I?

He wanted to tell her that yes, yes! - she did know him, had made him, had broken him and had died because of him but the words stuck in his throat.

"_Yes._"

"...why?" He took a deep breath. There were so many things he could say, but only one thing really mattered now.

"Because...I love you." She blinked and sucked in a surprised breath, leaning intimately closer to him, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Oh," the word came out in a breathless whisper. The world around them seemed to dull to a quiet murmur. On the sidewalk, quickly moving pedestrians flowed around them like water flowing around a river rock but they paid them no heed.

"I've...waited a long time to see you again." She was quiet for a moment, her eyes glimmering with questions.

"What's your name?"

"It's Gabriel. Gabriel Gray."

"Hi, Gabriel. It's nice to meet you...again?" she said, turning her head sideways to look at him askew, her lips quirked at the corners and a twinkle in her eye. Before he knew it, a laugh was bubbling up from his throat. A beautiful smile broke across her face.

And he knew, they would do better this time.

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_AN: erased my original ending...I hope you guys like the ending I used instead. I tried to make it as close as possible._


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